


Dream in the Light

by oldestcharm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New Year's Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28484895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldestcharm/pseuds/oldestcharm
Summary: Derek is moping, but Stiles is not about to let the past ruin the New Year for him.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Dream in the Light

**Author's Note:**

> It's still the 1st. I'm allowed to post this. <3

Derek stands in Melissa McCall's backyard and stares blankly at the condensation that spirals up towards the sky as he breathes. The cool December breeze wraps around him, finding easy access through his threadbare Henley shirt and there are actual goosebumps on his arms. He should have grabbed his jacket, but somehow it feels more appropriate this way. Letting his eyelids fall shut, Derek tunes in to the sounds of the party drifting from the house. The music is loud and just a little overwhelming, but it is something they've all decided on on the off chance the neighbors might do them a favor and call the police (a clever ploy to get the sheriff to join them despite his shift), but Derek can still make out individual conversations.

"Wow, do you think I could get a goat?" Scott asks with wonder, voice wavering a little as though he is afraid the answer will be a resolute no. There is a hastily covered snort from Cora.

"What do you want with a goat?" Deaton asks, sounding somewhat amused. Derek isn't sure why anyone would want to invite Deaton to a party, but then again, he isn't exactly sure why he himself is invited, not to mention _Peter_.

"I heard if you bleed enough of them, you'll gain a couple years of lifespan," comes the smooth voice of the latter. Everything about his delivery is disturbingly suggestive. As though he has intimate knowledge of the matter and wants to share pleasant memories. Derek wouldn't be surprised in the least bit.

"Oh, gross," Scott says, making rather realistic vomiting sounds and Derek thinks Cora joins in at some point. He sniffs the air, just in case, but it looks like they're all in the clear. Their sounds do end up muffling whatever Peter says next, which is great because Derek isn't exactly interested in anything he has to say. Everyone has gathered around to celebrate the New Year and while it is nice to be included, he doesn't particularly feel like being around Peter at this time of the year. The date has a significance to him that prevents him from celebrating properly. He blocks out the sounds from indoors again and fishes out the car keys from the pockets of his jeans. They are cold and heavy in his palm, much heavier than they realistically should be.

It is usually around the New Year that Derek's thoughts drift back to Laura. It has been five years now, but it still feels raw. The loss of his Alpha, his sister, his best friend. It is not easy to forget. He still remembers finding her, burying her, the overwhelming feeling of guilt, grief and loneliness. He feels like he's drowning.

' _Laura wouldn't want you freezing your balls off in the back garden_ ,' advises a voice in the back of his head. Derek isn't sure whose the voice is, but it seems to be making a valid point. He sighs heavily, wonders whether he should head back inside. Then again... _Peter_.

"Moping, are you?" The hand that follows the soft tone slides up his spine, into the short hairs on the nape of his neck as another presents him with a plate of half finished pizza. Some of the tension disappears from his shoulders at the touch and he turns his head slightly to look at his new companion. His presence feels a lot like a wave of warm water and Derek cannot help but lean into him.

"A little bit," he admits, fingers wrapping tightly against the Camaro keys again and he hides his cold nose in Stiles' hair. "Is that for me?" he mumbles, pointing at the slice.

"Mhm," Stiles hums happily as Derek picks up the slice from the paper plate. "I was going to eat it myself, but you look really miserable, so..."

"So it's pity pizza?" Derek asks, chewing thoughtfully. "That is the sweetest thing you've ever done for me."

"I know," Stiles sighs loudly. "It better work."

"It _is_ working," Derek says through a mouthful. Stiles wrinkles his nose at the bad manners, long fingers coming to rest on the underside of his jaw to snap it shut. Derek would tell him off for being a hypocrite, but the amused smirk assures him Stiles is, in fact, very much aware of it and is most likely doing it on purpose. Derek swallows the bite. "Somewhat," he adds as an afterthought.

Stiles nods, acceptance written all over him. "Do you want to go home?"

' _Yes_ ,' Derek wants to say, but he doesn't want to ruin Stiles' night with his inability to handle his own emotions so he shakes his head.

"You know, it would be a lot more convincing if you weren't clutching the car keys to the point of bleeding." Stiles says mildly, hiding his concern exceptionally well considering the chemosignals coming off of him in waves. Derek blinks and stares down at his hand that is indeed bleeding.

"Shit," he mutters and brings the keys to his eye level to check they aren't bent. Thankfully, they're not.

"Come on, big guy, you need a pick-me-up," Stiles says, guiding him towards the car.

"I thought that's what the pizza was for," Derek says as he opens the door to the passenger seat. Stiles smiles, kisses him softly.

"Sure, but you could do with something much _much_ better," he mumbles into his mouth. "I'll go grab your jacket— gimme just a minute."

*

They make it home some fifteen minutes later, but Derek still isn't sure what to do with himself. The last of the pizza has been devoured in the car and the wound from the keys had healed near instant.

"You look dreadful," Stiles says, tugging at Derek's shirt sleeve.

Derek sighs and leans his forehead against Stiles' shoulder.

"Right," Stiles says decisively and smacks a rather sloppy kiss on Derek's cheek. "I'm making a plan."

Derek huffs a laugh and extracts himself from the embrace. "A plan you say?"

"Indeed," Stiles says and guides him to the soft gray couch by his shoulders, pushing a little so he'll sit down. "Now, just sit here for a sec and I'll go do my thing."

"Do your thing?" Derek asks with a twitch of his lips.

"Do my thing," Stiles confirms with a grave nod, but as he turns away, Derek catches the playful smirk on his lips.

With nothing else to do, Derek curls up on the couch, eyeing Stiles' movements as he runs a bath and works on some concoction in the kitchen. Stiles glances up from time to time, catches his eye and smiles sweetly, and Derek's honestly a little overwhelmed with the sort of domestic bliss he's suddenly granted. Whenever he had thought about his future before, he had imagined one sided romances, continuous heartbreak or no one in his life at all, but Stiles... Stiles is something wholly unexpected.

He's gets so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even notice when Stiles appears in front of him, arms folded. "Are you coming?" he asks, amusement obvious on his face, though the tone is a little cross.

Derek blinks up at him, smiles. "Of course."

Stiles grins and Derek lets himself be pulled up and into the bathroom.

"Strip now," Stiles commands and doesn't even bother hiding the blatantly appreciative gaze as Derek rids himself of his clothes. "In the bath," he adds and Derek climbs in. Stiles nods, satisfied and turns towards the door.

"Aren't you coming?" Derek asks as he leans his elbow on the edge of the bath and his chin on top.

"In a moment," Stiles tells him, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment and tries to relax. Maybe it'll work this year. He hopes.

Stiles returns with two steaming mugs, setting both on the flat edge near the large windows.

"What is this?" Derek asks, squinting at the mugs with deep suspicion.

"Oh, it's something," Stiles says, wiggling his fingers, which means that Derek completely loses his train of thought, eyes focused on one thing and one thing alone.

The fingers disappear quickly into Stiles' pockets and Derek lets out a soft sound of loss.

" _Darling_ ," Stiles says, exasperated, though there's a tiny pleased smile dancing on his lips.

Derek just blinks up at him and shrugs, rather unapologetic. "It's not my fault they're distracting."

Stiles snorts and retrieves a piece of chalk from one of the shelves. Derek watches as he scribbles a rune on the side of the bath, looking rather pleased with himself. Derek's seen this before, of course, the purpose of it being to keep the water from cooling down.

Stiles turns to him then with a clever smile and proceeds to do absolutely nothing.

Derek quirks a brow at him. "Well?"

The smile morphs into a grin and with Derek's attention entirely on him, he proceeds to strip his clothing, messing up his hair in a decidedly attractive manner and revealing those long limbs, broad shoulders and a delightful amount of pale skin. He turns off the lights, leaving them in darkness, illuminated by the city below. Stiles bends down to give him a rather dirty kiss, before he's climbing in himself and settling across from him. Derek blinks at him, somewhat dazed and Stiles just laughs.

"Okay," Derek says and reaches under water to wrap his fingers around a delicate ankle.

"Yes," Stiles agrees, a thoughtful look in his eyes. One of his long fingers is absentmindedly stroking Derek's knee. "You know, it's not just Beacon Hills. We can see the fireworks tonight."

Derek hums in reply and Stiles' eyes snap back to him, gleaming.

"Try my blend," he suggests, biting his lip. "It's new."

"What exactly does it do?" Derek asks and lets go of Stiles' ankle to pick up the mug.

"I'm not quite sure," Stiles says with a delighted grin and Derek sits up, alarmed. "It's supposed to take the edge off, make you relax, but in all honesty, it might just get you high." He gives a little shrug and Derek is charmed despite himself.

" _You_ are clearly off your rockers," Derek decides.

" _Thank_ you," Stiles says, looking extremely pleased with himself as he picks up his own mug.

Derek snorts. "Alright, I'll try your poison," he tells him, except it comes out more adoring than snarky.

Stiles hides his smirk behind his mug and Derek just goes for it, because he trusts Stiles. Trusts him to drug him with strange concoctions that may or may not be dreadful. It's— it's surprisingly good. Usually there's a 50/50 chance of Stiles' potions being actually consumable, but he's definitely gone all out with the New Year's edition.

"What do you think?" Stiles asks, nudging his thigh with his toes.

"It's not terrible," Derek says, lips twitching into a tiny smirk.

Stiles snorts and jabs at him a little harder. "Come on, Derek. Tell me."

"I think it may be your best one yet," Derek admits and Stiles practically glows at the praise.

"Then finish your drink quickly, darling, so you can come here," Stiles says and Derek doesn't know how or why he's ended up with someone so bossy, but he thinks he might just like it.

"Well, if you insist," he tells Stiles with an exaggerated sigh and downs the sweet liquid. It doesn't kick in immediately, but as soon as he's done, Stiles tugs the mug out of his hands and manhandles him until he's sitting down, bracketed by Stiles' legs, back to chest. Some of the water flows over the edge, but Stiles doesn't even seem to notice — he's too busy nosing at Derek's hair.

"Is it working?" Stiles mumbles against his ear, followed by a tiny kiss that sends shivers down his spine.

"Is um— what working?" Derek asks, because he's a little distracted. Distracted by what feels like the cool magnetic pull of moonlight, settling deep in his bones, bleeding across his skin like Stiles' sparks of magic, electric and bright. He feels fully consumed and safe in the haze, melodic laughter surrounding him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Stiles decides and then there are long fingers stroking across Derek's shoulders, his chest, his thighs. He opens up to it and loses himself in the feeling, eyes falling shut.

"I'm okay with that," he tells him, letting his head fall backwards onto Stiles' shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, enveloped in warmth and bubbles. In something otherworldly and oh so far from the agitating memories of their past. It's better these days. Derek feels like he's floating.

"It's midnight," Stiles whispers as the soft muted pops go off outside, filling Derek's lids in colorful lights. "Open your eyes, darling."

He opens his eyes.


End file.
